


And The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls

by Goodknight



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: 18th century AU, Card Games, Crimes & Criminals, European setting, Historical, Language Barrier, M/M, One-Sided Nico di Angelo/Percy Jackson, Pirates, Slow Burn, Tarot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-05-31 16:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6476884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodknight/pseuds/Goodknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico di Angelo lives alone in the Palazzo, steeping in loneliness. His life is about to improve, of course, now that he's graduated University and is leaving Italy to take his Grand Tour. He'll attend Hazel's wedding in France, have coffee in London with the man he is in love with, and finally find freedom from the tragedy of his past. </p><p>Unhappily, he is captured by notorious Pirate Captain Leo Valdez instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Naples, 1707

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank [RZKing](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RZKing/profile) first and foremost for listening to me go on and on about not only this story, but also all the old recipes, poems, letters, and random boat facts I linked them to in droves while distracting myself from actually having to write... I mean, erm, researching. Yes. Also, for being a massive help with the plot. I would be a very lonely and typo-plagued writer if it weren't for you. I appreciate your sticking by me through every fandom change and vapid horse AU ❤
> 
> Well - despite all my efforts, I still know pretty much nothing about life in the 1700s, so I hope you'll excuse some inaccuracies. I've taken some intentional liberties and had to fill in lots of knowledge-gaps. Thank you for your readerly patience and understanding! As always, my biggest thanks goes out to you for having a read.
> 
> No warnings for the time being. Tags will be added as the story progresses. Happy reading, everyone!

_The day returns, but nevermore_  
_Returns the traveller to the shore,_  
_And the tide rises, the tide falls._

_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

Naples

May 19th, 1707 -  
    My dearest Hazel,  
I recieved yours of the 4th May. I'm glad to hear about your engagment, and wish you all the best. I have left University. I sail for Languedoc next month. Father has been in Florence since the end of April. There is no other news.  
        Nico di Angelo  
  
The Palazzo Reale di Napoli was a hundred-windowed red box lording over the sparkling Gulf of Naples. Nico could see every boat in the harbour from his private study within - trim _feluccas_ gliding over the summer waves, rowboats full of sun-wrinkled merchants in white and red cotton shirts, and, most importantly, the anchored barque that would take him to France when it left Italy in June.  
  
He sealed the letters he was writing to his sister and her new fiance, Frank Zhang, in Toulouse - three exact copies, to be put in the care of three separate captains in case one or more of the France-bound shipping barges waiting in the bay was set off course, and put them aside for one of his servants to take to the docks.  
  
He spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon sitting in a plump red chair near the window. Italy was vibrant with music beneath him - church bells, singing, and the strumming of lutes sounded from every direction. It was for this richness of culture and busy artistry that foreigners and Italians alike lauded Naples as one of the world's most spectacular cities, but Nico preferred the quiet stars at night, when the cicadas' calling was uninterrupted by the shouting and conversation in the streets, and the moon glinted off the water in rows like molten silver. Guitar songs and laughing Lords were not his Naples - since Bianca's death, the joy of the city only accentuated the barren feeling inside of him, made it feel darker by comparison.  
  
At half past two, a pair of servants brought him a bright yellow _solaio_ laden with chestnuts in mustard, bread that smelt lightly of rosewater, veal in _agresto_ , and a good cinnamon custard, taking the letters with them when they left.  
  
Even during the occasional weeks when his father left his usual home in Venice to stay in the Palazzo, Nico always chose to eat alone.  
  
When the sun had gone down, leaving absolute darkness and a sky heavy with constellations, Nico lit a single white candle and took out his cards. He'd discovered them with Bianca years ago - dusky prints of a man riding a white horse, a farmer pouring water on a patch of flowers, a scene overlooking red roofed buildings in the white sun. When he was younger, he'd spread them out on the spiralling marble stairs near the front door, shuffling them with deft fingers; learning all 97, from the zodiacs to The Hanged Man.  
  
'The Page of Swords.' He had told Bianca, the day before he would start Grammar School, turning over one of the cards he'd lain at his feet to reveal a stockinged young man with a bright, windswept face. 'Change. Challenge.'  
  
Bianca had leant down to press a kiss into his wild black hair. 'Nothing you can't handle, Nico.' she had reassured him. 'The future can be however you want it to be.'  
  
They had done a spread of their own design before every major change, sitting opposite each other, touching the cards and asking questions aloud. But by the time Nico left the Grammar School for University, Bianca had been dead two years, caught by a small wave of the same Plague that had coursed across Italy and swallowed nearly half the city before they'd even been born, and he'd done the spread alone. The cards felt familiar. He could almost imagine his sister's hands flipping them, brushing her thumb over their smooth faces, putting a positive spin on all his predictions until he was smiling, looking eagerly ahead into the future, excited about the possibilities.  
  
Arranging the cards now, in anticipation of his journey West through Europe, he felt her absence like a living presence. He set eleven cards in a circle, one in the middle, two branching out to the sides, and pushed the rest of the deck away. Bianca had always said it was an imitation of the sun - the shape of a bright future.  
  
First - the present, at the top. Nico flipped the card to reveal the Eight of Cups. A journey of self-exploration. Fitting, since he was due to leave on his Grand Tour in only a short month's time.  
  
To the right came Death, riding a pale horse. Nico had never done a spread without Death appearing somewhere. Bianca used to say it meant he was always a step away from new opportunity and discovery, but as he stared at Death's yellow skull in the flickering candlelight, he felt a twist of uncertainty. Death would be his challenge. He decided to think about what that might mean later, and flipped the next card - The Hanged Man. He pinched his lips. He should be doing something differently... he should start doing things differently. But what?  
  
In the past was the Four of Cups. He had chosen to close himself off from developing relationships, succumbing to boredom and loneliness. As if he needed the Tarot to tell himself that. Next came his weaknesses and strengths: the Nine of Swords and the Ace of Swords, respectively. He was depressed, sleepless and mournful, but would overcome through determination.  
  
Sometimes he felt as if the cards were trying to insult him.  
  
In the near future, he found the Page of Wands. New relationships, indecision. And what should he do about it?... The Lovers. Nico frowned. Love and a moral crossroad. He hadn't a clue what to make of that. The next card was meant to tell him something he would need to know going forward. When he flipped it, the Five of Pentacles, with its ailing beggars, stared up at him. Hardship. Bianca would tell him that family braved hard times together, supported each other, and found strength and the ability to overcome when they relied on and trusted one another. But Bianca wasn't here. He had no one to lean on.  
  
The card to the far left represented his hopes and fears - the Six of Cups. Family gatherings. Home. Nico hadn't felt like he was at home for a long time. He hoped his half-sister Hazel and her new fiance would be able to find happiness in France, but to be included in that was too much to hope for. He doubted he'd ever feel the way he had when Bianca was alive - like he belonged, like he was loved, and loved someone in return. Never having a family... that wasn't his fear so much as his reality.  
  
Finally, in the centre, rested his potential future. Nico was surprised to find The Sun. Obstacles overcome; joy; a new relationship or renewed health.  
  
He sighed and put his cards back in their black silk bag before blowing out the candle and settling into darkness, feeling just as unsure as he'd felt before the reading, if not moreso.

 

  
Naples

June 6th, 1707 -  
    I have left University. A hired ship will take me to the South of France, and from there I will make my way through Europe. If you are still in Brighton, perhaps you could join me for coffee. The years have passed slowly and humourlessly since you left.  
        Nico di Angelo  
  
The longer he stared at the note, the more tempting it became to give up and burn it.  
  
He had put more thought into the reading he'd done, and pulled out The Lovers from the deck several times to glare at it. It had never appeared to him before. The thought of what it could mean left him feeling torn. There was only one potential love he could imagine in his life, and he'd (quite sensibly, in his own opinion) given up on pursuing it.  
  
They'd met when Percy Jackson had been traveling through Europe with an entourage of his ruckus friends nearly two years past. One of them had greedily eaten three tourtes and two bowls of _zabaglione_ while they took chocolate in Nico's rooms, and Percy had spoken some of the worst French Nico had ever had the misfortune of hearing, and even worse Latin - but he'd enjoyed having them in the Palazzo, filling its halls with their ridiculous philosophising, vociferously quoting satires from British newspapers. Percy told him awesome tales of galloping to the rescue of a woman who'd fallen off her horse and broken an arm in Paris, struggling bravely through the treacherous Alps, and drinking heartily in Milan.  
  
Nico had tried to teach Percy enough Italian to experience the city, but all Percy could ever say was 'vino bono dolce' with so much feeling and passion it made Nico laugh. They'd often stood talking together, watching the boats on the horizon, dusky sails glowing white in the sunset. Percy always smelt like the coastline - not of fish and tar, but like sea salt and white beach, fresh and sharp. The wild waves crashing on Naples' rocky cliffs were reflected so intensely in Percy's eyes, it was like he had been bourne from the water itself.  
  
Nico had never felt so impressed by another human being in his entire life.  
  
One night, after Nico had spent an entire exhausting day walking just behind Percy's small army of boisterous friends as they toured Naples' streets in search of art to write home about and casinos full of gossiping ladies, their trite English conversations drowned out by the echoing shouts of locals playing games of Trieze, Percy announced that it was far too hot in Naples, and so they should all pop into the harbour for a swim.  
  
Grover, who had seemed so determined to eat all of Nico's cheese during dinner, put a hand to his stomach and shook his head. 'I think I'd sink if I tried.'  
  
Percy laughed and took Nico by the arm, calling parting words to his friends and leading Nico alone towards the water. They'd ended up walking together along the beach, illuminated by a low hanging moon. The sea was dark and gentle beside them. When Percy threw his coat to the sand and lifted his shirt over his head, Nico felt like he was drowning, even though he stayed rooted to the dry Earth.  
  
He'd watched Percy shake the sea from his hair - letting waves crash into his calves, ducking into the white foam - from a safe distance away, knees pulled up to his chest and fingers buried in the cool sand. Percy was organic. He looked like he belonged not only in the world, but to it, each crest a homecoming, every trough drawing him close to embrace his nakedness, the warm breeze a caress on his cheeks. He was so unlike Nico, who never fit anywhere. And Nico realised then that he loved him.  
  
After the British men left for Venice, Percy calling 'dol-say! dol-say!' and waving, his smile whiter than the clouds in the afternoon sky, Nico had gone back to the Palazzo with lead in his legs.  
  
He'd written Percy several letters and never sent them. He'd never received any, either. He told himself every day not to hope that Percy would write him, or think of him, or wish to see him again.  
  
But now he was going to England. The flicker of hope he felt when he looked out his window at the barque bobbing on the ocean frightened and disturbed him, but he asked own of his servants to see that the note be delivered to Brighton, anyway.  
  
Bianca would have been proud of that little show of optimism.  
  
  
  
  
Maddalena set sail just after dawn on the 16th of June. Nico watched from the deck as the Palazzo shrunk away, seeing for the first time how it looked from afar - dull red under an empty sky, squat and hulking. The wind was fresh so early in the morning. It whipped Nico's long dark hair away from his eyes and stung his cheeks pink. He felt, as he scanned the Italian coastline for familiar buildings, like he had reached some sort of beginning.  
  
The ocean beneath him was whipped into a white froth behind the barque. The sun felt like it was branding his neck, claiming it. With every minute that passed on open water, Nico felt more like he belonged to himself. Was this simplicity - this serene in-between place, away from the shores of busy, loud Europe, the reason Percy always looked so perfectly golden when he turned his face to the sun and the sparkling sea? Why the tide took him like a mother takes a child's hand when he waded into the surf?  
  
Nico stayed all day on deck. The other men aboard talked to him sometimes, mostly in Italian or English. Since Percy's visit he'd been practising the latter more, and he was pulled into the occasional conversation with the crew - bronze-skinned Londoners, small boys from Salerno and Avola, and an Irishman called Old Job who was missing his front teeth.  
  
'You're in a hurry to burn.' one of the Englishmen laughed when Nico joined them for a simple supper of bread, cheese, and beef in verjus in the early afternoon.  
  
'What do you mean?' He asked over his wine. 'I haven't been in a hurry all day.'  
  
'That's true!' Called Old Job from his table. 'F'only we were all of us so relaxed, if you catch my meaning.'  
  
Nico did, but he said nothing, sipping at his wine instead.  
  
'Sun-burn.' Explained another sailor, making a circle in the air around his own face. 'You get an immunity after a while.'  
  
That night, Nico longed desperately for that immunity. His cheeks were hot and red, as though he'd brought leftover sun with him to his cot on the barque’s chilly deck. The night air was cooler on open water. He pulled his blanket up to his chin and listened to the waves swell and bump against the ship's hull, as the sailors sang and played games of chance on crates next to the masts. He'd been warned he'd have to leave his bed if the wind changed, unless he wanted to be trampled by one of the men changing the sails.  
  
All in all, it was nothing like the Palazzo. And even though the ship was salty, unstable, and loud with working sounds, bottles clinking, and creaking wood, he didn't miss his private rooms in Italy. When he sat alone at the low table in his parlour, emptiness surrounded and stifled him - endless halls branching out the door, white walls long and blank save a handful of dim paintings in twisted golden frames, all tightly sealed under the dark rafters. Nico couldn't understand how such an oversized place had felt so cramped, while laying surrounded by other men on the deck of Maddalena, so close he could hear them grunt in their sleep, didn't make him feel crowded.  
  
The air under the stars tasted cleaner.  
  
He didn't miss Italy.  
  
  
  
On the second day, they were passed by an Italian _caravel_ , evidently returning home, and one of the Englishmen saw whales off starboard - two long, grey creatures with white bellies and small curved fins on their tails. They rolled in the waves like dogs wanting to be scratched, splashing in the morning sun. The Englishmen called them 'minke', the Italians 'minore', and Old Job called them 'grey buggerers'. Nico had never been an animal person, but he couldn't deny that the whales were majestic in their own right.  
  
Mere hours later, a scout shouted 'dolphins!' from the back of the boat, and Nico was heralded by two of the crew to watch a pod leap in and out of the stream following the ship. They soared, bent-backed against the red sunset, flashing stripes of white and grey.  
  
'That's good luck.' A boy of about 13 told Nico. 'Red sky at night, and dolphins following after us, too.'  
  
The sailors were a superstitious bunch. Nico had heard about a hundred different rhymes and rules to tell the weather, a dozen signs of good wind or guaranteed good health. Old Job had a rooster and a pig tattooed on his feet, to prevent his own drowning, and some of the crew had told Nico he was not allowed to shave, lest he bring them bad luck. Personally, he thought they were trying to make him look as disheveled and ungroomed as they were out of spite, but he'd left a small bit of stubble on his cheeks since the deckhands started glaring at him after he'd cleaned up for dinner the first night onboard, just to take the attention off his face.  
  
When darkness fell, Nico settled on the deck with Sawyer, a Brit with golden hair and pockmarked cheeks, and his friends Jacob Devol, Johannes, and a Frenchman called Ignace, writing letters while they drank rum and rolled dice. A cool wind blew over them, so that each man was made to wear a coat or jacket against it, and the waves agitated the ship from many directions, making it seem to rock without making any progress West. From the mast, a member of the crew called down 'Caravelo Italiano!' followed by a rough shout of 'Again?', and a group of sailors burst into raucous laughter over their tankards when an Englishman fell down a hatch to the lower deck with a bang and a flurry of rough curses.  
  
'A lad was telling me that the red sun would be good luck.' Nico said, his voice soft and low, when a bump against the hull made his pen skitter across his paper.  
  
Ignace nodded slowly, stroking his chin. 'For the weather - it's true. No storms.' He said. Nico had struggled at first to understand his Southern provincial accent and strong lisp, but he took it in stride. Hazel was living in Southern France, now; he'd be hearing much more of it.  
  
'Are you writing home about me, di Angelo?' Asked Jacob Devol, in English, swinging an arm about Ignace's skinny neck. 'You shoul’ tell more than jus' about the weather, see.'  
  
'I'm writing my sister.' Nico said. 'She's to be married.'  
  
'Aw, now that's sweet.' Said Sawyer. 'What's a viscount's sister called, then, so we can toast her proper, like? Only I’ve never kept track of you lot and your titles.’'  
  
'A bastard.'  
  
'Ahh. To the bastard sister of our broody passenger - a happy marriage.'  
  
Another thing about sailors - they always found reason to drink. Nico thought the constant shifting of the ship under his feet stomach-churning enough without excessive alcohol.  
  
The ship rocked again, so forcefully Nico was pitched sideways onto the deck, as a boom, low and sharp like a thunderclap, rent the air. When he righted himself again, the ship was in a chaos so sudden it seemed impossible.  
  
Johannes had sprinted towards the nearest mast and climbed up halfway to shout 'Panic stations!' in a heavy, commanding voice, and Sawyer had thrown his cards into the air to sprint away to port with several others, holding their hats and flapping coats against the wind.  
  
Nico scrambled to gather his letters in his coat and leapt to his feet. Several shots rang through the air, and when he turned around, he saw that a ship had pulled alongside them - curved like a banana, with three triangular sails and an empty mast that jutted out of the sunken looking bow: the caravel that had passed them that evening - he was sure it was the same one, now flying a flag with a wicked looking fire engulfing a bone white skull on a background as black as the night around them. It had obviously been tailing them.  
  
From above him, Johannes yelled desperately to the scrambling crew: 'pirates!'  
  
The pirates were shouting, too. They waved scabbards and knives, blazing torches, and stamped their boots on the deck of their ship. Nico pressed himself against one of the barque's masts as a cannon banged, blasting over the deck. Sawyer, who had been shouting expletives and waving his arms back at the men on the caravel, was knocked overboard, and the rest of the crew sprawled fearfully across the boards. A stray bottle of rum rolled past Nico's feet and followed his fallen shipmate into the sea.  
  
At the prow, the Captain, Agustin Lombardo, stood red faced and silent. He'd spilt wine down his front, so it looked like his shirt was stained with purplish blood. Nico spotted one of the young Italians sprinting up to him, shouting for his orders, as another cannon dropped into the sea behind the barque and the ship rocked on its shock waves.  
  
'Your orders, sir!' Shouted the boy, throwing himself against a railing as a bullet lodged itself in a mast several feet away. His voice was small over the din of pirates clanking metal and throwing empty bottles towards the Italian trader and into the sea.  
  
Nico looked away from Captain Agustin when a whip cracked at starboard - no, not a whip: a grappling hook. He watched with the sailors as several Spaniards in long coats and filthy white socks poured onto the deck.  
  
Chief among them was a man with a black star tattooed at his collar and gleaming gold earrings poking out of his dark curls who had tucked not only three pistols of very fine quality into his thick leather belt, but also a golden spyglass, two tightly closed bags, a lady's velvet purse, several brightly coloured scarves, and, for whatever reason, a chisel, an augur, a hookpin, and a device with many arms that looked like it might be used for measuring.  
  
Captain Agustin's face had turned redder than the wine on his front as he patted the flat pockets of his jacket, his mouth twisted with indignation. 'Strike the colours!' He called, his heavy eyes shifting from the youthful pirate Captain to the thieving crew behind him - smiling dark skinned men with axes, pikes, and swords in their weathered hands, and, surprisingly, a dagger wielding woman.  
  
The pirates loosened their grips on their pistols. Nico looked up to see the Italian deckhand lowering the barque's sail - the red, white, and green of Italy. As much as he had longed to leave his homeland behind, as desperately as he'd tried to distance himself from Naples and the Palazzo, Nico's breath caught to see the ship without it.  
  
He cast about for a familiar face and spotted Ignace crouching behind a crate with a bottle still in hand. Nico darted from his spot against the mast to kneel next to him.  
  
'What's going on?' He whispered, as the pirates cheered from their ship.  
  
'We have surrendered.' Ignace took a swig from his bottle and offered it to Nico, but Nico refused.  
  
'So what happens next?'  
  
Ignace drew a deep breath, nodding his head as a small, austere smile stretched across his sun-kissed face. 'That depends, my handsome rich friend, on who we have surrendered to.'


	2. Tyrrhenian Sea, 1707

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe it's been a year! Terribly sorry; I am wicked slow. This was half written a year ago and half within the past two days; hopefully it blends well anyway *cross fingers* :D Losing all my hand-written notes and research and a lot of personal busyness + original work to write is my only excuse.  
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

Leo Valdez, Captain of the the _Maddalena-to-be-renamed-after-he'd-finished-stealing-it_ , was standing with his sun-darkened hands on his hips, looking at the green horizon over the heads of the ship's crew, victorious.  
  
' _Nobile... visconte_!' The Maddalena's captain was pleading at his feet, gesturing wildly at a handsomely dressed man crouched behind a crate. ' _Ricchezza! Visconte_!'  
  
Leo spoke almost no Italian, no French, no English, no Latin, and no Chinese - he had grown up along the coast of New Spain and spent most of his sea-faring life sailing around the original Spain. He did, however, speak fluent ransoming.  
  
' _Visconte_!' The man who used to be the captain of Leo's new ship said again, lurching sideways to pull the _Visconte_ up by his collar and show him to the pirates. _'Molto, molto ricco!_ '  
  
'Si.' Leo said. 'Uh. _Ricco._ ' He nodded understandingly, and the captain smiled, his blotchy red face bobbing with grateful enthusiasm. The _Visconte_ shook him off violently and started to smooth down his coat. 'Throw the captain overboard!' Leo called to his crew, while the captain grinned broadly, thin lips tight as drum strings, wringing his hands in front of the wine stain on his white shirt. His expression fell when a pair of pirates wearing military hats scooped him up under the arms and dragged him to port.  
  
Leo turned to his First Mate, Piper, who was looking at her reflection in her dagger, and who knew most of the languages Leo did not, the one he did, and probably a few he'd never bothered to worry about not learning, as well. 'Tell them who their new Captain is.' He instructed her.  
  
'This is Leo Valdez!' Piper called out, in Italian and then in English. 'Your new Captain!'  
  
The crew watched, bald-faced, as the pirates dropped their retired captain into the glassy sea. Waves swallowed him like hungry mouths.  
  
The _Visconte_ was sheet white and fiery red, his burnt skin a weird peeling mess like shaved ice with syrup. He was watching Leo with the sharp eyes of a billingual. Being a ricco nobile, he probably spoke all the languages Leo did not speak.  
  
' _Visconte.'_ Leo said to him. 'You -'  
  
'My name is Nico di Angelo.' The _Visconte_ interrupted in accented Spanish. 'I am going to France.'  
  
Leo laughed. 'That'll be difficult, _Visconte_ Nico di Angelo, since you're my prisoner and I'm taking you to Spain for ransom.'  
  
'I have money.'  
  
'I know.' Leo assured him, and turned to the crew. 'Set course for Spain!'  
  
Leo's new sailors appeared from where they'd hidden up masts, behind boxes, and under sheets to call 'Aye aye, captain!' and get back to doing the same thing they'd done under their old captain, except in a Spain-ward direction instead of a France-bound one. It hardly mattered to them who their boss was.  
  
Nico di Angelo the Italian _Visconte_ glared at the lot of them, and carried on glaring as Leo's men escorted him by the elbows to the stern. ' _Canaglie._ ' He hissed, trying to lock eyes with the men he'd played cards with only moments before. 'Bastards!'  
  
  
  
'Argo II?' Piper asked, when Leo had knocked all the things off of the old captain's squat, cherry-red desk and put his own things triumphantly in their place. 'Original.'  
  
'Names don't have to be original to be good, Piper.' Leo explained. 'And Argo II is a great name for a ship. I would know. I came up with it.'  
  
Piper rolled her eyes. She was sitting with her legs crossed under a a painting of a bowl of fruit, wearing a Lady's dress with long opera gloves and a masquerade mask with white feathers. She'd ripped the dress up the side so it slipped off her heavy thighs like water off a cliff-face, pooling softly at her feet.  
  
They'd put the _Visconte_ in the room across from them, and locked it, just in case he tried to stop them from stealing his clothes. His fine Italian coat fit Leo quite well, and Leo was not actually very good at using his swords or his pistols; he didn't want to fight Nico over it. Nico had a dark wild look to him, like he would skewer a man, wipe the blood from his hands with a silk kerchief, and calmly return to his _nobile_ business. Leo didn't trust those black, black eyes.  
  
He brought his prisoner bread and cheese for dinner, and Nico demanded wine. He brought him wine, and Nico banged a fist on the door and needed a book to distract his mind. Leo brought him a French novel called _l'Amour dans le Palais_ because he thought it was funny that the dashing man in the illustrations within could be a relative of Nico's - they had the same wild, hunted look - and Nico huffed and rejected it, because it wasn't 'literature', and also needed more wine.  
  
'Are all _Viscontes_ as ungrateful and demanding as Visconte Nico di Angelo?' Leo asked when he next cracked open Nico's door, putting a wine glass into one of the _Visconte_ 's smooth palms and a new book in the other.  
  
'Que?' Asked Nico, who regretted studying his English and not his Spanish, and also regretted being on a ship that was pirated by Leo Valdez.  
  
'Do you need anything else?' Leo clarified, putting his hands on his hips and cinching his brow.  
  
'Oh. Si.' Responded Nico. 'Bring me my things.'  
  
\---------------  
  
Leo brought Nico all of his things, except the coat, shirt, pants, and slightly-too-large-for-Leo boots that had been in his rooms, all of which Leo had put on.  
  
'Where is my coat, my shirt, my pants, and my boots?' Asked Nico when he had received all of his things except for those things which Leo was currently wearing.  
  
'I don't know.' Leo said, through the door.  
  
Nico wiggled the door knob. 'Thief.' He accused, in a lilting growl. 'I see you through the door.'  
  
Leo thought both of Nico's observations were pretty obvious, and that it was rude of Nico not to let Leo get away with keeping the coat, since it looked really splendid on him. Besides, Nico was already wearing perfectly fine clothes. He could certainly afford even more after he'd been ransomed if he wanted more than one shirt so bad. 'I have to go play cards with my crew.' Leo told him. 'I will see you later, Visconte Nico di Angelo!'  
  
\------------  
  
Nico could hear the crew shouting, laughing uproariously, and clanging cups well into the night. He sat with his back to the door of his prison, sipping slowly at his wine and distractedly reading. He'd been staring at the first page of _Les Oiseaux en Or_ \- another French romance novel; Nico wondered where Leo was getting them - without absorbing a word.  
  
Probably, he would be free once they arrived in Spain. He would take a train from there to France and continue his Tour; a little poorer and a little later than anticipated, but unharmed.  
  
He would miss Hazel's wedding.  
  
Nico had never enjoyed events or parties very much. He'd matured into a serious, scholarly man who most liked his own company. Some duchess always found a way to tease him for being too quiet, or for refusing to dance, or for wearing a broody expression, or for spoiling the mood. It was better for everyone else if Nico was otherwise occupied and could not attend their gatherings. But he had wanted to be at Hazel's wedding. Hazel was vibrant, kind, and bright, a light in the gloom of his daily life. Most importantly, she was family. Nico had very little family left to cherish, and he wanted to cherish it with all his heart. He wanted to take Hazel's hands in the garden, to delight in her happiness, to soak in her good spirits like leather soaks up oil.  
  
He sighed, closed the book, and tried to sleep through the merry-making of the pirates and the disloyal crew.  
  
When he woke in the morning, there was bread and salted meat on the floor in front of his door, as well as a tankard a quarter full of wine. He looked out the porthole as he ate, and drank the wine, though it was really too early for it. The sea looked the same no matter where they were going, whether it be Spain or France. It was quiet today, still and flat. The sun skittered on top of the water in sharp shapes.  
  
When Nico put his drained goblet next to the door of his prison, he heard footsteps and voices outside his door. Though he couldn't make out the words, he knew Leo Valdez and the pirate woman were coming down the hallway.  
  
' - he's horrible,' Nico heard the woman saying, when he moved silently to the door and pressed his ear against the wood to listen. 'I don't know why you ever made that deal.'  
  
There was a tap on the door.  
  
'Hola, Nobile!' Came the cheerful voice of Leo Valdez. 'Let me guess: you want more wine.'  
  
Nico took a moment to understand that part about guessing, but he understood the question about the wine perfectly. Leo asked him about wine a lot. 'No.' He answered. 'Do you have books that aren't terrible?'  
  
'No.' Said Leo Valdez. 'All our books belong to First Mate Piper. If it's intrigue and excitement you're looking for, I could tell you tales of my greatness.'  
  
'No thank you.' Nico said.  
  
'My books are not terrible.' Said Piper.  
  
'Your loss.' Sighed Leo Valdez.  
  
So Nico spent another couple hours of sitting at the small table near the porthole, thumbing through _Les Oiseaux en Or_.  
  
\-----------------  
  
'- that's when I said, "ladies! ladies! No need to fight! Everyone can have a piece of my bandana!" and I took out my knife' - Leo unsheathed the curved blade at his hip, twirled it in the air with a self-satisfied smirk - 'and sliced it into 8 pieces. One for each of my fans to remember me by.'  
  
Piper was alternating between translating for his chortling audience and rolling her eyes. 'This one says you are dumb like a bread roll.' She told Leo, pointing at a handsome young German. 'And his friend says you have ears like a monkey. If you want any of them to walk the plank, say the word.'  
  
The jokers were looking spellbound at Piper, who punctuated her death threat with batted eyelashes and a sly smile in their direction. They clearly did not speak Spanish.  
  
Leo waved it off. His audience was laughing; so what if they were laughing at him? He put his knife away and picked his cards back up. 'Anyone brave enough to face the great Captain Leo Valdez in a game of Reversis?'  
  
The old _Magdelena_ crew had been jostling for a spot near him all evening, still curious about their new leader. They had become very comfortable laughing while they sat and swapped stories with him. He liked that - it made him feel likeable.  
  
Leo smiled lopsidedly at the faces looming out of the thickening darkness. He was used to new crews thinking he was an oddity and a fluke. In some ways, they were often right about him: He wasn't as brave as he should be, he was not a good conversationalist, he struck nerves, he was small and weak. He knew all these things about himself already; he couldn't very well fault people for noticing. But he was also made by the sea, raised in the cradle of ocean waves and weaned on fish and crab. His success was no fluke. Sometimes he thought it might be nice if someone other than himself would call him great, and mean it.  
  
'I was just going easy on you.' He declared, throwing his deck down after a third spectacular loss. Their oil lamps were running low, and so was his competitive spirit. 'You couldn't handle Leo at his best!'  
  
Piper threw her head back to laugh. She'd been drinking Leo's men under the table, swiping their hands away from her exposed thighs as they dribbled into drunken piles at her feet. Even with her peeking at the charmed men's cards and trying to send Leo signals from behind their backs, he'd gotten quite the lashing from his opponents.  
  
The men he'd lost earrings and pieces of silver to clapped him on the back when he stumbled to his feet. Piper slid up beside him, taking him by the elbow back to the Captain's quarters.  
  
'I'll get your things back in the morning.' She told him, patting his arm with her gentle hand. Even drunk in the middle of the ocean, she moved like a panther under a jungle sky.  
  
Leo put his hand over hers. He wasn't anything as graceful as she was - he always felt a little grotesque next to her. Every time he looked up into her dark eyes, she was like a portrait on the canvas of distant heavens, framed by eagle feathers and bright turquoise beads. He stumbled in his distraction when Piper stopped in front of their door, across from Nico's room. There was still sound inside, like Nico was pacing in front of the door.  
  
His footsteps stopped when Leo's did. 'Unlucky night?' came a slow voice from inside.  
  
'Winning boosts morale.' Leo answered. 'And good morale's a perk of being on Leo Valdez' crew.'  
  
'Que?' Grumbled Nico back.  
  
Piper smirked and said something in Italian. Nico responded in a voice smooth and incomprehensible, leaving Leo completely out of the conversation. When Piper carried on without explanation, Leo put on a toothy grin and butted in, cutting Nico off mid-Italian-sentence.  
  
'I guess you wouldn't know anything about good morale, would you, Visconte Doom and Gloom?'  
  
'Do you expect your prisoners to have good morale, too, Captain Valdez?' Questioned Nico, a little poisonously.  
  
'Why not?' Leo laughed. 'Do you gamble, _depre_?'  
  
'No. But I play. Better than you, I am very sure.'  
  
Leo grinned. 'Then prepare to have your morale boosted, _depre,_ whether you like it or not!'  
  
'Perhaps in the morning.' Piper muttered, her voice just audible through the door, following a heavy thunk - Leo had passed out against the wood. She heaved him onto her shoulder, dragging his feet along the floor, and noticed that he'd left one of Nico's fancy boots behind at the card table. She sighed. 'Goodnight, prisoner.'  
  
Nico didn't answer. He wasn't sure what had gotten into him, that he talked to these criminals at all. The last thing that would boost his morale was a card game with the pirate who had ruined his World Tour, planned to sell him in a foreign country, and had stolen his best jacket.  
  
\---------------  
  
Leo woke with a head splitting hangover to the comforting sight of Piper sharpening one of her many ornamental knives.  
  
'Spain is on the horizon.' She told him, when she saw that he was awake. 'Your prisoner is screaming for rescue out the window.'  
  
Leo flunked back on the bed. The thought of anyone being loud made him want to hide in his pillows and never come out. 'I guess I have to feed him.'  
  
Piper's smile grew a little dark around the edges. 'Your call.'  
  
'He drinks too much wine.' Leo groaned. 'I don't wanna think about wine.'  
  
'I'm very sure he doesn't actually drink wine for breakfast.' Piper said. 'But since it's noon...'  
  
It took Leo a moment of quiet suffering to get out of bed. He cinched his belt around his hips and put on his cap while Piper started on sharpening another of her knives. The rocky coast of Spain was visible through the porthole behind the Captain's table, just as she'd said.  
  
Leo didn't like to stay at port long - the stable, secure feeling of dirt under his feet made him antsy. He wasn't made for sticking around anywhere. Approaching Spain, he was already anticipating putting it at his back again.  
  
He brought Nico a pitcher of water, a platter of bread and cheese, and a pack of playing cards. 'This is your last meal on the Argo II,' he told him, when he'd slipped them inside, 'and your last hour sailing with the legendary Captain Valdez himself.'  
  
'I hope you don't expect me to treasure it.' Nico replied flatly. There was a sound of shuffling cards. 'Do you play Tressette?'  
  
'You'll have to teach me, _depre_. Promise you won't try to strangle me if I come in there?'  
  
'You're the one with the guns, Great Captain Valdez.'  
  
Leo snickered. He opened the door just wide enough to squeeze inside, and then locked it behind himself again. Nico was sitting against the wall, shuffling the cards with wicked speed. The charcoal smudges under his eyes hadn't budged since his imprisonment. Leo sat cross legged across from him, pulling his boots close and resting his elbows on his calves. Nico's dark gaze got fouler as he took in Leo's outfit. 'What?' Leo grinned back at him. The cards were still flying between Nico's fingers. 'I'm a pirate.'  
  
Nico huffed, and dealt them each 10 cards. 'You must score 21 points.' He said. 'Aces are one point.'  
  
Leo slapped his cards against his thigh while Nico explained the rules. 'Why don't we have a bet?' He interrupted, while Nico was trying to explain Napolitana - the best possible hand - in Spanish.  
  
'I have nothing to bet.' Nico snapped. 'You have stolen everything I own.'  
  
Leo had sharp, canine teeth as white as a virgin beach. He smiled with sun-tanned innocence  that was certainly only surface-deep, stuck his tongue out of his mouth when he examined his hand. Nico had met _nobiles_ who looked more threatening. The effect only worsened when Leo tossed him a handful of golden coins and said, 'lighten up, _depre!_ ' in a voice as friendly as the wind that gently touches the petals in a garden.  
  
Nico imagined himself leaping away from the wall like a stalking cat, latching himself onto Leo's neck and holding onto him, taking his coat back from off Leo's limp arms. Leo's smile made it seem like it would be easy. Too easy.  
  
Nico won every round. Leo kept tossing him coins, bouncing them off his wrists and flicking them with his thumbs, promising that he would wipe the deck with Nico next time, always smiling, comfortable.  
  
Spain was upon them after the fifth game, and Leo got up to stretch. Nico tracked him warily with his eyes. 'How's that for stealing everything you own, _depre_?' He asked, pointing at the pouch where Nico had been collecting his winnings.  
  
'This is the half of what I had in my purse.' Nico said.  
  
Leo shrugged. ' _Pesimista._ '  
  
There was a knock at the door. Leo unlocked it with the Captain's big ring of keys, and Piper glided in with them. She was holding a coil of rope. 'Ciao, _depre._ ' She greeted Nico. 'Hold out your hands.'  
  
Nico glared. He had been in the middle of shuffling the cards again, for a seventh round, and he tucked the cards into his back pocket. It was bad luck to shuffle a deck and never deal it. Leo had moved toward the window and was looking out, back across the ocean. Nico wondered why he had chosen to stay with Nico in his room instead of manning the wheel, or giving orders to his crew. Leo's expression was melancholy when he thought no one was paying attention to him, his eyes wistful and his mouth a worried line.  
  
Piper shook out the rope and tied Nico's hands. She didn't give him the same exploitable impression as Leo did; she wore the weapons at her hips with obviously deadly intent, where Leo armed himself like a tinkerer more likely to bargain than shoot. Nico stayed quite still for her to bind him, feeling every bit the soft noble.  
  
I'm playing my part perfectly, he thought, bitterly. He imagined telling Hazel that he had helplessly held his hands out to be tied up by a beautiful woman in the bowels of the ship he'd hired, and a hot stone dropped down his throat and burned in his stomach.  
  
Piper led him over the deck through a column of watching sailors. Leo trailed behind, hands clasped behind his back. He was the shortest of every man on the ship, even with his brimmed Captain's hat, but he swaggered like a giant.  
  
' _Aiuto!_ ' Nico shouted the moment he was above decks. 'Help! _Socorro_! I'm a prisoner!'  
  
'A very dangerous prisoner!' Cried Piper, her voice somehow carrying over his like a loon call through piercing mist, 'for the gallows! Luckily, we have apprehended him!'  
  
There were a few other rafts bobbing in the pool's waves and rowing to shore beside them when Piper, Nico, and Leo pushed away from the Argo II. Leo had put his hands over his ears to block out Nico's desperate calls for help, and Piper continued to combat him by loudly calling him 'cunning _asaseno_ ' and asking a deaf Leo what he planned to do with the money they would be awarded when they handed him in to the proper authorities.  
  
To Nico's grave disappointed, the other rafters wouldn't meet his eye - they all turned their heads completely if Leo was looking in their direction, with expressions of vague disinterest. Nico shut his mouth and scowled the entire trip towards the rock. Obviously Leo held more sway here than he did.  
  
'Ay, _depre_ ,' Leo complained, climbing off the raft after Piper and Nico, 'are you trying to kill me, here?' He pointed at his head, his eyes comically wide, when Nico only looked confused.  
  
'I have to take advantage of what few weapons I have.' Nico answered.  
  
Piper laughed. She tugged him towards the outskirts of the city and then into the bustling streets, with Leo trailing behind like a lost duckling.  
  
_'Socorro!_ ' Nico yelled, planting his feet against Piper's surprising strength and getting dragged across the dry stone for his trouble. 'Help me! I've been abducted!'  
  
Spain's streets were narrow and sharp. They twisted at random, so Nico quickly lost track of the way. Several times they were diverted by a garden overflowing from the door of a house or scattered a flock of screaming hens as they marched through them where they lay in the sun. The alleys were full of people working - herding goats, selling food, or cleaning the abundance of waste that had accumulated under the windows of the houses. Nico threw out a foot to try to stop a passing teenager who was running with several barking dogs, but the kid only ran away faster once he righted himself, throwing a wary look over his shoulder before disappearing around a corner.  
  
Piper's steps seemed to be getting faster as they moved deeper into the city. She whirled Nico into a market square and stopped him suddenly, looking out over the crowd like she had spotted something.  
  
Nico saw him too. A _hermandad_ \- one of Spain's militia - was loitering around the fountain in the centre of the square. ' _Socorro!'_ Nico shouted, putting his weight into his bonds to get out in front of Piper where the soldier could see him, ' _Hermandades! Socorro!'_  
  
To his great relief, the _hermandad_ turned and came hurrying towards them. He was tall and handsome, dressed in white and red, with pale hair and laughing blue eyes. Nico was smugly looking forward to such attractive salvation.  
  
'Piper!' The _hermandad_ said when he reached them, bumping past Nico to kiss both her cheeks.  
  
'It's been a while.' Piper smiled softly.  
  
Nico watched the _hermandad_ with growing distaste. They were pressed together at the shoulder, because Piper still had a death grip on his bound wrists. The amorous look in the _hermandad_ 's eyes killed all hope he had harboured of rescue. While Corrupt Adonis nodded his head briefly at Nico in greeting and then looked back at Piper to tell her how much he had missed her, Nico looked darkly out into the busy square in despair.  
  
'And I'm here, too!' Leo called from behind. 'Hola, Jason.'  
  
Jason took Leo's hand familiarly. 'What grounded you?' He asked. 'I thought you were Leo-the-Grand-Island-Hopper-Extraoridinaire, "never needs to touch land"... "one with the ocean"...'  
  
Leo pointed rudely at Nico. 'I found this gloomy looking guy on a merchant ship heading to France; I think his family will pay to get him back. And he gave me this great jacket. All those things I said still apply, but hey, I'm versatile - call me Leo "Camelion of the Sea" Valdez.'  
  
Nico spit at Leo's feet.  
  
'We shouldn't stand around out here.' Jason said, his hand on his sword. 'Your bounties rose.'  
  
Leo looked delighted, and Piper nodded seriously. 'Thank you, senor,' she said loudly, 'for taking this criminal off our hands!'  
  
'No, stranger, thank you.' Jason replied, equally as loud. 'It is not every day a pair of honest merchants apprehend a violent criminal at sea, and then hand them over to the proper authorities to be punished appropriately.'  
  
'Yeah!' Called Leo. 'Isn't it great to be within the law?' He nudged Nico on his way past him, back into the winding maze of alleys.  
  
Nico didn't bother shouting for help. He scowled at Leo's back, and went silently, defeated.


	3. Alicante, Spain, 1707

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again! It's been a busy time over here; I've moved countries! Again! I hope this chapter is alright; it was written mostly in bus stops and fueled mostly by uncertainty. haha! Thank you always for reading!! <3
> 
> / I've accidentally marked this as being updated May of last year. Hopefully that's fixed now. :>

Nico was pressed against Leo and Jason at the bar of a surprisingly busy establishment, his hands still tied. Piper had thrown the rope with which Nico was bound at Leo when they walked in so she could put herself in Jason's lap. This affectionate arrangement was the only way they all had a place at the bar to sit at all - every patron of _El Gallo Caprichoso_ was congregated around the bartender like crows at a carcass, and there was very little room.  
  
'Our middleman will be here soon,' Leo said, after ordering them all a round of drinks. 'Don't look so down, _depre!_ Drink!'  
  
The thought of putting Leo at his back did cheer Nico up. He took a sip of the wine. It had obviously been thinned liberally with water. 'This is shit.'  
  
Leo shrugged. He had his fingers tucked loosely into the ropes at Nico's wrists, for some reason. 'I'm not rich enough yet for _nobile_ wine.' He said, with a casual grin. 'But we're both about to get what we want, hey, _depre_?'  
  
'No.' Nico snarled. 'I never wanted to be ransomed by pirates in the worst bar in Spain.'  
  
'Huh. Well, I'm not a mind-reader.' Leo pursed his lips and looked Jason and Piper up and down, leaning back in his chair so it rocked on the back legs to see around Nico. Watching his expression slip between giddy happiness and far-away wistfulness was like watching dolphins disappear into a blank, windless ocean.  
  
'Do you love her?' Nico asked, before he could remind his mouth that he didn't care about Leo's feelings.  
  
'Piper? She's basically my sister. Of course I love her!' Leo righted himself in his chair and slid his elbow down the bar so he was hunched around Nico. 'No offense, but if you were being eaten alive by sharks, and Piper had a bee sting, I'd help Piper.'  
  
Nico's eyebrows rose. 'What could you do to help her with a bee sting?'  
  
'I don't know, put a bandage on it? It's not a perfect metaphor; I'm not a miserable intellectual who practises sad poetry and broody frowns in the mirror every morning.' He jabbed his thumb at his chest, grin broadening. 'I'm the fun guy.'  
  
'Ok.' Nico nursed his wine. The bar was noisy, for early evening. 'Do you love him?'  
  
Leo's face turned just a bit ruddier. 'No.' He said. 'Jason's my best mate. Why do you care, anyway, _depre_?'  
  
'I don't.'  
  
They sipped at their drinks in silence - well, Nico was silent. Leo didn't seem capable of it. He had pulled something brass off his toolbelt and was opening it, closing it, opening it, closing it. It clinked and clicked with gears, and had a set of mirrors like a spyglass. Nico didn't ask what it was, or try to make Leo stop fidgeting. He was trying to remain aloof. He'd become aloof in his adulthood, he had to remind himself.  
  
There was a disturbance at the door, and Nico turned to see a towering woman enter, pushing her way through the crowd like a battering ram. She met his eyes, and then her gaze slid over to Leo. She stomped towards them with the grace of a hungry bear.  
  
'Clarisse!' Leo greeted, when she had shouldered the stranger sitting next to Leo off his stool and sat down in his place. 'Great to see you here! This is Nico, my miserable booty.' He wiggled his eyebrows. 'Nico, meet Clarisse - if you look at her too long, you might to turn to stone. She terrifies me.'  
  
Clarisse grunted in confirmation.  
  
'Pleasure.' Nico said.  
  
'Probably not for you.' Clarisse smirked down at the place where Nico's hands were tied. 'Where'd you pick this up, Valdez?'  
  
'Merchant ship. He's a _molto molto ricco visconte_. Nico DiAngelo. His dad will pay a lot to see him returned home safely.'  
  
'You don't know that.' Nico growled.  
  
Clarisse laughed, a great bludgeon of sound. The barkeep pounded a stein of beer the size of a man's forearm in front of her, and she drank a gulp to wash away the laughter. 'I know who he is.' She said.  
  
Nico was surprised to hear it, but only slightly. He was a viscount; of course people knew of him.  
  
'Let's talk price -'  
  
'No.' Clarisse bullied Leo easier than a cat playing with a broken mouse. 'I don't deal with you anymore.'  
  
'What?' Leo sputtered. 'Why not? I'm the Great Leo Valdez! I bring you more booty than any other pirate in Spain!'  
  
'I know.' Clarisse said. 'Everyone knows, because you never shut up. You're a liability. Every _hermanded_ in Spain has a drawing of you in their back-pocket.'  
  
Piper was watching the exchange with a frown. 'Not Jason.'  
  
Clarisse bared her teeth viciously, looking Piper up and down. 'No secret why.' She grunted, taking another swig of beer.  
  
Leo was opening and closing his contraption with mounting frenzy, but his smile stayed casual. 'I'm Jason's best friend.' He said, shrugging. 'I'm not scared of the _hermandades_ ; my bounty is a well-earned compliment. I'd be offended if they weren't looking for me.'  
  
'I don't want trouble, either.' Jason sighed. He had pushed Piper's hair behind her ears, so her bronzed cheeks glowed bare in the candlelight. 'But I am glad you're here.'  
  
'What does that mean?' Piper asked. 'We're trouble now?'  
  
'Leo's always been trouble.'  
  
Piper snorted. 'You better not be breaking up with me because of his bounty.'  
  
Clarisse pushed away from the bar. 'Well, we're done here. Good luck getting rid of your noble.' She said tauntingly. 'I'll come to your hanging.'  
  
'Not if I come to yours first!' Leo called after her, indignant. She disappeared out of the door, and the crowd closed behind her like a bow wave.  
  
'You could just let him go.' Jason said. 'It's dangerous for you to be here at all, let alone with the son of a powerful man as your... prisoner.'  
  
Leo huffed. 'I get it - you're the Golden Boy, always doing the right thing. But I'm a pirate, Jason. This is my life. I steal stuff. I sell it to my fences. That's all I have.'  
  
'Apparently not.' Nico drawled.  
  
'Shut it, you.' Leo slumped onto the bar. 'I need to think.'  
  
Nico swirled his awful wine. 'I imagine that must be very difficult for you,' he said idly.  
  
'No thanks to you, _depre_. Maybe I'll make you walk the plank...'  
  
'... a predictably small-minded solution.' Nico said in Italian, raising his eyebrows at Piper, who was watching with an amused, mischievous look. 'Is this how pirates get rich? Throwing their valuables into the sea?'  
  
Piper tutted, like a protective mother hen, and then repeated everything he'd said in Spanish before saying, 'sometimes we bury them.'  
  
'X marks the spot,' agreed Leo. 'We could dig you up again when the _hermandades_ have calmed down a little.'  
  
'I think you'll find me considerably less attractive full of worms.'  
  
Leo buried his ruddy face deeper into the folds of his stolen jacket, laughing, while Piper cooed excitedly and lightly hit Jason, who was shaking his head firmly, with the back of her hand. 'Dead or alive, you would probably look the same.' Came Leo's voice from the pile of dark curls and expensive fabric on the bar counter.  
  
'I think my _molto molto ricco_ father would disagree.' Nico wasn't sure about that, actually, since his father hadn't seen him in over a year. It was altogether too easy to imagine Leo presenting his corpse in Italy, slumped against Leo's shoulder, explaining that he was just suffering from a bout of narcolepsy, and sailing away with the ransom money before anyone noticed that Nico was growing maggots in his ears. He finished the horrible wine and nudged it against Leo's arm. 'I need more wine.'  
  
'You're so expensive, at this rate I'll end up losing more money than I make.' Leo grumbled. He ordered two glasses, handed one to Nico and tapped the other against it. 'To kidnapping.' He said.  
  
'To kidnapping?' Nico raised his brows. 'I'm not drinking to kidnapping.'  
  
Piper laughed, and raised her own glass. 'To love!' She declared, pecking Jason's smiling upper lip. 'We should probably go.'  
  
'I'll escort you to the coast.' Jason offered. 'There's more we need to talk about.'  
  
Nico didn't miss the way Jason inclined his head, twice and sharply, in Leo's direction, nor did he miss Piper's responding frown and the meaningful way she widened her eyes back at him. He wondered how long they'd been having a silent conversation with one another while he was focused on Leo, and felt a tug of panic. He wasn't an acquaintance of theirs, they weren't having a friendly round of drinks together. He couldn't afford to let himself go soft just because Captain Valdez was pouting at his pinkish wine, narrow shoulders slumped, looking entirely harmless and rather in need of a hug, or some other thing which Nico would never provide and shouldn't worry about. He took a gulp of wine while staring over Leo's head at the wall.  
  
'Thanks, but I've got one more trick up my sleeve!' Leo announced, 'I can meet you at the ship if you want to be alone.' The salacious way he grinned made Nico roll his eyes before he could stop himself.  
  
'I don't know...' Piper said, her eyes flicking from Leo to Jason to Nico with worry, longing, and suspicion respectively. 'You shouldn't be by yourself.'  
  
Leo spread his arms, so Nico had to lean back to avoid getting an elbow to the chest. 'I'm great at being alone!' He said, 'The best! Solo is my middle name! Along with handsome, charming, witty, and brilliant, and all those other things I said it was. You've got nothing to worry about, Pipes. Tell the crew we sail at sunrise, and they can take a sabbatical on-shore. Do your thing with Jason. You never know when we'll be back in Spain, especially since I'm so wanted. I'll probably be on deck in three hours, tops.'  
  
'Digging my grave will go faster with more hands.' Nico pointed out, before mentally smacking himself for talking so much.  
  
'Wow. Even the guy who most stands to benefit from getting you alone wants us to stay with you.' Piper said, and then sighed, her grip tightening around Jason's middle. 'But you're the Captain, Captain.'  
  
'If you don't have your toes in the sand in three hours, I'll tell my command where you are so they can have you arrested.' Jason threatened. 'For lying to Piper.'  
  
'If you were in jail, we'd know exactly where you were.' Piper agreed. 'So we wouldn't have to worry about you anymore.'  
  
'And we could enjoy the afterlife together.' Nico added. He'd drained the last of his wine, and was feeling relaxed despite his best efforts. 'After your hanging.'  
  
Leo groaned. 'I regret kidnapping you so much.'  
  
  
  
  
Leo had grown up on the coast of New Spain, padding barefoot across the decks of ships moored in the inlet, squawking at the feet of sailors like a curly, sun-battered seagull. The unforgiving siren call of Old World fairytales had rattled between his ears and behind his teeth ever since his mother first let him loose into the muggy mast-forest at the docks. He soaked in the thick accents of foreign traders, their melodic Eastern songs, like choir-boys over the sea learnt hymns. He crouched daily at the waters edge and peered down as rapturously as a devout at prayer. So was his education.  
  
By nine, he could tie every kind of knot, skip a stone fifteen times over the ocean waves, build rigging and read maps, work like a dog on the Atlantic ocean, and suffer wordlessly of life-threatening illness. He had also started taking out loans, to fund his dreams abroad.  
  
'My debtor is pretty understanding,' he was telling Nico, as they kicked up dust side by side in a looping alleyway. 'I paid part of my board back when I was a skipper by challenging his crew to feats of daring.'  
  
'It has become clear to me that my captor is a madman.' Nico muttered, staring straight ahead. And then, louder, 'I hope this debtor is as understanding as you say, so I can be ransomed already.'  
  
Leo nodded agreeably. 'Thanks, _depre_. Do you miss your high Italian thread counts?'  
  
'Que?' Nico growled. Sometimes Leo's mounting excitement made him talk faster than an auctioneer with a _van Dyck_.  
  
' _Ay, depre_ , think of this as an adventure! That's what I always do, when I'm ransomed.'  
  
Nico frowned. 'We are very different people.'  
  
The city spread before them like brittle starfish arms, dry in the fading light. They were wandering further towards its chalky white centre. Leo smiled warmly the entire time, his fingers playing with the trinkets at his belt and making soft clanking music that was incredibly irritating.  
  
'You're hurting my ears.' Nico grumbled, when Leo started whistling to accompany his nervous percussion.  
  
Leo's fingers stilled, but his grin spread in a way that was becoming very familiar to Nico. He broke into rowdy, contrary song. The people of the city kept on boisterously and noisily ignoring them.  
  
'Madre de dios.' Nico sighed.  
  
Leo laughed between versus, his crooked steps drawing him in and out of Nico's strict personal space like a buoy on a changing tide, as they navigated the arms of the starfish.  
  
  
  
  
Leo's debtor was in a smooth stone English-style house with blue-shuttered French windows and a busy German garden - neat and wealthy and bizarre among the boxy Spanish villas. He was another blonde American, like Jason; Nico was starting to wonder where Leo found them all.  
  
'What are you doing here, Valdez?' The debtor asked, once they'd settled around an oakwood table in the bowels of his manor. Three other Englishmen and a frowning woman crowded them from all sides; they were packed nearly as tightly as they had been in the bar. It struck Nico as devastatingly unecessary - the room itself was cavernous and empty, like a toothless maw. Most normal men decorated with a plant, or a portrait. If there had been a small rug, a vase in one of the white-rock corners, Nico might have felt better about this Luke Castellan Nico had so much casual faith in.  
  
Leo teetered back in his chair and lifted Nico's arm, like a hard-won triumph, displaying the silver chain that bound Nico's wrists. 'I'm here to make a deal. I think you'll - '  
  
'Looks like a foreigner.' Said the girl.  
  
Nico jerked his arm back down, making Leo's chair bang back to the floor. 'I will pay you to take me away from this pirate.' He interjected, 'You outnumber him. Kill him quickly.'  
  
The debtor laughed. 'You've interrupted us in the middle of a game of Loo.'  
  
Leo took up drumming the table with his worn fingers. 'Don't listen to my hostage. His father is the Italian Viscount Hades. The incredible riches you'll receive when you ransom him is my way of repaying your generosity in bringing me here from New Spain.'  
  
'Really? We haven't been introduced.' The debtor thrust his hand across the table at Nico's chest. 'I'm Luke Castellan. This is Thalia. Isaac, Hugh, Perry.' He pointed at the sharp woman, and then at each of the stony faced men whose elbows were in their personal space.  
  
'Nico di Angelo.'  
  
'Good.' Luke steepled his fingers. He looked completely un-phased by Leo's proposal. 'Ransoming is risky business, even when you aren't involved, Captain Valdez. Why won't you contact the Viscount yourself? Have you brought me a commodity or a curse?'  
  
Nico certainly looked the part of a curse - sombre, slouching, and dead-eyed.  
  
Leo shook his head. 'You said it yourself - the great Leo Valdez is too wanted a man to be writing letters to nobles! I'm very famous in Italy. Trust me, this is a business opportunity!'  
  
'And you'll be moreso now that the di Angelo heir knows you personally.' Said Thalia.  
  
Luke nodded. 'I think you've done something stupid again, and you're trying to pawn it off on someone else.'  
  
Leo's grin flickered. 'No way! I never -'  
  
'He is,' interrupted Nico in English, 'very stupid. But I will pay handsomely to be put on an Italian-bound ship, and will tell no one of this incident if my safety is guaranteed. My father need not be contacted.'  
  
Thalia laughed - she seemed to delight in leaving Leo out of the conversation, positioning herself so she blocked his view of most of the table. One of the men rose a little out of his seat and grabbed Leo roughly by the lapel of his coat, sensing the odd change of mood that Luke's creeping smile brought down like a grey veil over the table, but Luke waved him to sit back down, fingers still twisting at Leo's throat.  
  
'In that case...' Luke nodded. 'I would be doing you both a favour. Remember that. Did Leo tell you how behind he is on paying his debts?' He asked Nico conversationally, as Leo glared out from the high collar of his ruffled shirt.  
  
'I am his prisoner, not his confidant.' Nico snapped.  
  
'Well, he is a loud mouth. I assume he confides in everyone he meets. He first borrowed money from me 13 years ago, and I helped fund his first ships and men.' Luke explained. 'It's beeen long enough now that I'm starting to wonder if my investment in the pirate Leo Valdez will ever pay off.'  
  
Nico shrugged. 'Not my problem.'  
  
'No. But it is, isn't it, prisoner?'  
  
'He makes everything everyone's problem.' Agreed Thalia.  
  
Nico sighed. The entire situation was obviously out of control - he might have felt bad for Leo, whose head was being pushed back quite uncomfortably by the fist of Luke's man, if it wasn't Nico's stolen jacket that was being so roughly wrinkled.  
  
'Well, Nico di Angelo.' Said Luke, 'The Italian military is making it very difficult for my ships to move between ports, as I'm sure you're aware. Your friendship could be valuable to me and my operation. And is the man who rescued you from an infamously devilish pirate not a true friend?'  
  
Nico nodded curtly.  
  
'Good. Thalia is with the polizia. As an act of friendship, she will escort you both back to Italy tomorrow morning. You will pay her on arrival.'  
  
Thalia shrugged.  
  
'What do you mean both of us?' Nico asked.  
  
'I mean, viscount Nico di Angelo, that I am rescuing you from the very wanted pirate Captain Valdez, well known across Italy, whom I have apprehended.' Luke reached towards the centre of the table for the pack of cards and started to shuffle. 'In the meantime, how about a game? Do you play Loo at all, viscount?'  
  
Nico nodded. 'I do.'  
  
Leo hadn't struggled while they talked, hanging in the shirt fabric like a tame and trusting rabbit in a trap, but he must have understood that something had gone very wrong for him when Luke dealt Nico a hand with a conspiratorial half-smile. Leo jerked sideways, kicking his captor squarely in the stomach, and dove to the ground, sending Nico sprawling across the smooth floor underneath him. It took longer than Nico would have expected for Luke's men to wrestle Leo's hands behind his back, and in that time Leo had drawn his long bone knife and cut himself out of their grasp by slicing Nico's good jacket into two neat halves, crawled backwards like a startled crab halfway across the room towards the open doorframe, and completely winded Nico.  
  
'You won't get another coat.' Nico said, sitting quite shocked on the floor next to a panting Leo while Thalia confiscated the gadget-packed belt and checked that Leo's arms and legs were secuely bound. Nico'd also gotten his shoulder bruised when Leo threw a chair across the room at one of the candles on the card table, nearly causing a house fire, but the only emotion he managed to feel following Leo's struggle was a vague, molasses-creep of awe.  
  
Leo grinned. 'Don't underestimate the Great Leo Valdez.'  
  
Luke and his men sat back in their seats. One of them was licking at a spittle of blood that dripped from his lip and threatened to slide down his chin with no sign of stoppering. Nico picked up his cards, aware of Leo leaning to peak at them from the seat next to him as though to cheat, though he'd of course not been included in the game.  
  
Every time Nico glared at him sidelong throughout the night, Leo was smiling toothily, dimples bruised. He wore the same expression when he was losing as he had when he was winning.  
  
Don't underestimate the Great Leo Valdez. Nico thought to himself, Might actually be very good advice.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :) You can always find me on tumblr at [fantomn](http://www.fantomn.tumblr.com) if you'd like to have a chat.
> 
> The lovely painting of Naples is from the Musée des Beaux Arts de Nantes; "Vue de Santa Lucia à Naples", by an unknown arist.


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